Office:Bookshelf
by ChelsaOfBakerStreet
Summary: Mycroft has been gone for two weeks and Lestrade has really missed him.


**_A/N: 1,111 words of pure SMUT. For the prompt: Anything Mystrade and M Rated!_**

* * *

Lestrade pulled Mycroft to him by his tie, kicking the door shut. Lestrade kissed Mycroft, glad the man was finally back from some consult with the Russian government. It had been two long weeks for Lestrade, not being to see Mycroft and barely talking to him the entire time Mycroft had been gone. Lestrade understood of course, there had been times he'd sat at the Yard staring at a mountain of paperwork from on case or the other and had to cancel a dinner date.

They always made up for lost time of course, in moments like this one, all hands and tongues and animalistic instincts kicking in and giving Mycroft that predatory look that made Greg release a low growl from his throat.

"Have I mentioned how much I missed you Gregory?" Mycroft mumbled against Greg's neck, pressing into the other man.

Greg stretched his neck, letting Mycroft continue sucking at the skin there. "No, but if you fuck me into oblivion I'm sure I could overlook it."

"Mmmm, sounds reasonable," replied Mycroft in that ineffable tone of his as he pulled Greg's shirttails from his trousers, running a hand across the skin. "I see you've been going to the gym while I've been gone."

"Had to have some way to burn off excess energy," Greg huffed as he popped the button to Mycroft's trousers, tugging them down his hips.

"Impatient aren't you?" Mycroft grinned; undoing Greg's belt and undoing the button and zip, letting the denims fall to the floor.

Greg pierced Mycroft with a glare that would wither hardened suspects, but did nothing to the demeanour of one Mycroft Holmes. "It's been two bloody long weeks Mycroft, of course I'm impatient. Now shut your mouth and fuck me!"

"Tsk, tsk Gregory, patience is important," replied Mycroft tersely, receiving another glare and impatient puff of air from Greg. "But have it your way," smiled Mycroft slyly as he forced Greg around, the older man's hands grappling for support on the oak shelving.

"Christ, Mycroft," groaned Greg as Mycroft tugged off Greg's pants, wrapping a hand around Greg's prick and pushing his own against the cleft of Greg's buttocks.

"Pull out the second book from the left, two shelves up from your right hand," Mycroft instructed, leading Greg to find a stashed bottle of lube. "I always had this fantasy about making love to you against this bookshelf," he explained as Greg passed the small bottle to him.

"So you're hiding the lube as if we're in a Poirot novel? Like I give a fuck anyway, just get going Mycroft, you said you didn't have all day."

"I have as much time as I need," retorted Mycroft smarmily, flipping the lid off the bottle and spreading the liquid across his fingers. He slid one in for Lestrade's sake, he himself wishing he could say hell with it and shove himself into Gregory.

Greg began to rock into Mycroft's fingers as Mycroft added another one, sliding them in and out of Greg. Mycroft quickly added a third finger, pressing them inside the other man before removing them and sliding his cock inside. Greg keened at the feeling of Mycroft filling him, the hot, sweet slide of Mycroft inside of him that Gregory had come to love. "For Christ's sake My, _move_," he groaned, pushing back against Mycroft.

Mycroft grasped Gregory's hips in his hands as he began to pull out and push back in, rocking into Gregory with a rhythm. He pressed kisses into Gregory's back as he thrusted, biting softly into the flesh. Greg let out small moans as Mycroft moved, his head falling between his arms to rest on a shelf, the smell of paper, sex, and Mycroft's cologne invading his senses.

Mycroft slid a hand around Gregory's prick, squeezing slightly before fisting it and moving his hand in time with his thrusts, Gregory's body moving involuntarily with the movements. Mycroft slid a thumb across the head, slicking the wetness there as his hand moved, reducing the friction for a better slide of his hand down Gregory's cock.

"Mycroft, that feels amazing," Greg panted, thrusting into Mycroft's hand, warmth spreading through his body and resting behind his navel. He felt Mycroft increase the speed of his movements, alerting Greg to the fact that Mycroft was nearing his orgasm, Mycroft's hand tightening fractionally on Greg's cock, just enough to make it all the better, Greg's testicles drawing up towards his body as heat pooled in his stomach.

Mycroft could feel his orgasm building, his arms shaking as he continued to push into Gregory. He kept a hand on Gregory's cock, needing Greg to get as much pleasure out of it as he was. Mycroft loved the moans Gregory was making, short gasps of Mycroft's name followed by low, guttural moans that sent spikes of pleasure straight to Mycroft's groin. He could feel Gregory tensing, could feel the man on edge, about to fall over into the same sweet oblivion Mycroft was. Mycroft leaned onto Gregory's back, sweeping his tongue around the shell of Gregory's ear and whispering, "Let it go for me Gregory, I want to hear my name spill off your tongue."

That was cause enough for Greg to grasp the wood shelf in front of his as his knees tried to give out, his orgasm rising into his chest, causing him to yell Mycroft's name as semen spilt out of him and over Mycroft's hand, his own shirt, and oh shit, the books in front of him.

Mycroft drank in the sound of Gregory losing it because of him, Gregory clenching around his prick as he continued to thrust into Gregory, riding the waves of Gregory's orgasm for a few moments still, until Mycroft was seeing white around the edges and spilling semen into Gregory, a shout of his name dying in the electrically charged air around them.

Greg turned around after Mycroft had pulled away, pulling Mycroft to him and kissing him, letting himself sag slightly into Mycroft's embrace as Mycroft used the wooden bookshelf for support. "I love you My."

"Love you too Gregory," Mycroft smiled, eyes closing as he kissed Gregory again. "Come now, let's get you cleaned up and in bed, you have a long day ahead of you, I'm sure."

"Only if you promise I get to be the little spoon."

Mycroft smiled, wondering how one man could have made him so soft. "Of course you can be the little spoon. Now get dressed before America calls and needs a babysitter."

Greg laughed, a surreal feeling washing over him as he picked his denims from the floor. Dating a Holmes was definitely interesting.


End file.
